Project TAHITI, Trial Two
by Forever-Tangled
Summary: Very short one-shot that takes place right after Avengers: Age of Ultron. DON'T READ if you don't want huge spoilers! Rated T just to be safe. Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the laptop I'm writing this on.


"Make a hole! Make a hole! We've got a dead Avenger here, move!" Clint Barton yelled, helping pull the hospital bed quickly down the corridors of the new S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. The silver-haired young man lie unconscious in the bed, the blood spatters dried brown on his suit. Clint didn't care that the boy had just joined the team, unofficially, today - along with his sister. He was crucial to the team and had saved lives, including his own, today, so he owed him a lot. Nick Fury had already given the go-ahead and notified S.H.I.E.L.D. of his arrival and the procedure ahead. The man with the eyepatch had grimaced; Project T.A.H.I.T.I. wasn't something he ever wanted to encounter or deal with again, but if his Avengers wouldn't keep safe, the project would never be phased out. Clint pulled the hospital bed into the medical room assigned, coming face-to-face with the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Pietro Maximoff," Agent Phil Coulson stared grimly at the man lying before him on the hospital bed.  
"Quicksilver," Clint Barton nodded curtly, pushing around Coulson to get the bed the rest of the way inside the room, where nurses started prepping machines. "He's a good kid. Saved some lives out there today."  
"And Nick Fury's given the go ahead for Project T.A.H.I.T.I. to commence?" Coulson flipped through some files and almost grimaced. All that he'd gone through with his own resurrection...he hated to see it done to another person. But this protocol was for injured Avengers, and though Pietro had only been on the team for one fight, he'd been given the go-ahead for it. He had to be very special; have a lot of potential.

A young woman raced in, crying out in Russian. Coulson could only make out "Pietro!". Clint grabbed her by the arm, preventing her from flinging herself across her brother's body. Her tangled brown hair covered her eyes and she looked almost like a trapped herd animal, desperate to find the rest of her family.  
"You're not doing him any good by delaying the process," Clint told her frankly. "He should be okay. S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of him."  
"You're certain of this?" she asked, staring at Clint with mistrustful, desperate eyes. She'd lost her parents, she couldn't lose her twin brother! She wished she could _feel_ anything aside from this desperation - or maybe a better term was desolation. Emptiness; lonliness. Her ties with her beloved twin had been severed harshly. Her heart ripped out. One could not feel without a heart.  
"I'm living proof that Project T.A.H.I.T.I. works," Coulson smiled pleasantly at the girl, setting his files aside. "Your brother will be okay. You can see him once he's recovered."  
Wanda Maximoff nodded silently, staring longingly at her brother once more before rushing from the room, her thick-soled boots clomping heavily down the hallway.

The nurses shooed Coulson and Clint out of the room, so they left to the lobby to wrap up their conversation.  
"You're sure he won't end up...losing it? You know, aliens?" Clint asked quietly. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject, especially since he was talking to the first successful Project.  
Coulson nodded. "After we learned about the superhuman underground city, we destroyed it - as you know - and modified our practice. He won't be drawing obsessive town blueprints or joining Project Inhumans," Coulson shook his head. "For now. But with the day we've had, who knows."  
Clint shook his head tiredly. "The town was flying."  
Coulson grinned pleasantly. "I suppose I should let you go rest up and get your own wound tended to," he nodded, reaching to shake Clint's hand. "I'm sure you won't tell a soul? Nobody else on the team knows I'm alive, and I'd kinda like to keep it that way. Hold a mysterious air. Plus, I think I could really freak the team out someday."  
Clint chuckled. "You know I won't, sir. I never do." As he spoke, his cell phone rang, so he picked up and strode off.

Coulson sighed, tapping his files with a finger as he surveyed the lobby. The girl, Scarlet Witch - or Wanda Maximoff - was sitting in a corner of the lobby, her head pressed in her hands. Coulson strode over, sinking down onto the floor beside her. "Crazy day, huh?"  
"My brother-"  
"Will be fine, I promise," he nodded reassuringly, reaching to set a hand on the girl's shoulder.

It took Quicksilver days to recover. His surgery had been extensive, and he wouldn't be fit to run for quite some time. He slipped in and out of consciousness for several days, moaning his sister's name and crying out in pain as if no amount of painkillers in the world would help him. Coulson realized that maybe they _wouldn't_ , considering his amazingly fast metabolism. Finally, though, he was well enough to be visited.  
"You're healing well," one nurse told him with a smile. "You'll be out of here in no time."  
Pietro groaned. "I doubt this," he grimaced as he rubbed his midsection.  
"Well," the nurse paused. "You'll at least have someone to talk with."  
As she spoke, Wanda pushed open the hospital doors almost shyly. Then she saw her brother and ran, collapsing over his hospital bed. She was laughing, crying, and could feel his heartbeat through his thin hospital gown. "They did not lie!" she exclaimed. "You are okay, Pietro!"


End file.
